


Without Words

by Roselightfairy



Category: Unwind Dystology - Neal Shusterman
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Missing Moment (sort of), Reunions, Risa is not a prize to be fought over, does it count as missing if we see it in someone else's imagination?, she makes her own decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2019-05-09 15:25:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14718686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roselightfairy/pseuds/Roselightfairy
Summary: Grace Skinner's intuitive powers are almost beyond belief. All the same, Connor and Risa deserve a perspective of their own for their scene in UnSouled. This oneshot depicts their reunion in UnSouled - close to what Grace imagined, but all their own.





	Without Words

Risa can’t sleep.

Her mind is too full of twisting and churning thoughts.  Connor and Cam, here, together – that is something that should not happen, not in any universe.  They are so completely opposite, so very different from one another, that in the combination of the two of them she can practically hear the gears grinding against one another, can feel the heat as invisible sparks fly in the air between them.

She knows that they expect her to make some sort of a choice – the thought irks her to no end.  Who is she to be claimed by either one of them?  She is not theirs; she belongs to herself and herself alone.

But – but –

But she can’t stop thinking about her last encounter with Connor at the Graveyard, late at night when she accused him of not having time for her and he tried to deny her accusations even though she knew that he knew she was right.  She can’t stop thinking about his words to her – _“Love you, okay? I love you”_ – and about the truth behind his eyes.

Connor is not good at lying – not to her, and not to himself.  When he said those words, he meant them.  She knew it then, and knows it now.  There was something he was trying to conceal from her then – that she knows as well – but whatever it was, it wasn’t the truth of his feelings for her.  She saw something in his eyes – a spark of fear, maybe.  Of what, she doesn’t know – but she knows it was there.  Pain, too.  She saw that as well.

But no matter what he was trying to conceal from her then, no matter what he hopes to gain by trying to protect her, by trying to hurt her now, she knows that he still loves her.  That was never in question.

She loves him, too.  Then and now.

It’s late at night; she’s sure that Grace is asleep by now.  She hopes that Cam is as well – and she stands up, silently, to steal out of the bedroom.

She holds her breath as she rises, almost noiselessly – only the faintest squeak of bedsprings, the soft whisper of blankets sliding away – and she’s halfway across the room when she hears Grace’s voice.

“Don’t.”  A pause, and then, “Please don’t.”

She freezes – Grace’s voice is knowing, more so than Risa would’ve given her credit for.  Still, she forces herself to lie.  “I’m just going to the bathroom.”

“No, you’re not.”  Grace’s voice is fearful – of what, Risa has no idea.  She wonders what Grace knows: how well she knows Connor, how well she understands Risa.  But that doesn’t matter, because this is not Grace’s choice.

“I have to,” says Risa.  She feels like she’s already out of the room, can practically see his eyes, feel the warmth of his skin.  “It’s not your business anyway.”

With that, she leaves, knowing that Grace is right; she shouldn’t do this – but she is beyond “should” at this point.  This loose end has gone long enough without being tied up.

Cam is on the floor, as he promised earlier.  The bed is in the corner of their room; taking care not to step on Cam, Risa tiptoes over to the bed and sits down on the side.  She thinks she hears Cam’s breath hitch as she sits – she becomes completely still, rigid, not even daring to breathe – but then his breathing returns to its normal pattern, steady in-and-out, occasionally breaking as another person’s memories flood his dreams.

Connor’s hand – the left one, not the one with the shark – is partway wrapped around his blanket, half-holding it but with no strength behind his muscles, his fingers just lying curled around the hem where it rests against his collarbone.  She touches the back of his hand, and he opens his eyes.  They gleam almost catlike in the dark, alert despite her waking him up.  She puts a finger to her lips and beckons.

“Can’t it wait?” His whisper, little more than an exhale, barely rises above the noise of Cam’s quiet breathing; his eyes dart toward the floor where Cam is still sleeping, oblivious.

She shakes her head, silent, slides her fingers through his and stands.  He follows her, blankets falling away, stepping lightly across the room.  She knew, after all, that he would make some kind of argument – but in the end, he knows as well as she that this has to happen.

Cam’s breathing stutters again as they pass the place where he is lying, but resumes before either of them can even stop moving.  Risa feels adrenaline rush through her blood, her heart pumping faster and her cheeks flushing – but it’s so dark and muffled by silence that it doesn’t seem to draw notice.  She wonders if Connor can feel her heartbeat, though, in the hand still clasped in his.

She pushes the door almost closed, once they reach the hall – barely resting against the frame, but not enough so that the click will give them away.  Cam is asleep, and Grace is in her bedroom, if not sleeping then at least not interrupting, and this moment belongs only to the two of them.

She turns to face him in the dim half-light of the hallway, the moon shining through the skylight, to look at him and take him fully in.  He is shirtless, sleep-tousled, and she lets go of his hand to press both of hers to his chest.  His skin is warm with sleep and that internal heat that Connor has always radiated; she can feel his heart beating beneath her palms.  She doesn’t speak – she doesn’t need to.  They have always understood one another just as well in silence.

After a wordless moment, what feels like an eternity of eye contact, Connor’s lips part and she can hear his intake of breath, as though to ask a question.  But instead of speaking, he leans down to her until their faces are just inches apart.  His eyes hold hers still, light glancing off of them, the look in them intense, but at the same time careful, questioning –

And then, gently, almost cautiously, he lowers his mouth onto hers.

As soon as their lips touch, there’s a feeling like a _click_ in Risa’s mind and body.  Some part of her that has been missing since she left the Graveyard has fallen back into place, so easily – simpler than breathing, far easier than speaking: _something as simple as a kiss_.

She kisses him back, her hands gliding across his chest and over his shoulders, moving up to cup his face; his arms slide around her, holding her closer to him.  She lets herself dissolve in him – kissing him with more passion than she has in so long, even more than so many of those times in the Graveyard.  Now – perhaps fueled by adrenaline, or the relief of being with him again, the realization that things have changed between them, but they can change back, that they have this chance to start over, to repair their relationship, to find whatever it was they have lost – now, Risa feels herself overwhelmed.  There is no more room for thoughts in her head – she throws them aside and loses herself in the moment.  Thinking is no longer necessary; this, Connor’s touch, his connection, his love, is something she _knows_.

Her fingers are tangled in his hair; his hands are pressed to the small of her back, holding her closer to him.  There is no space between them, physically or emotionally.  Without words, they have found their way back to one another.

Then a door bangs behind them – Risa doesn’t let go of Connor, but it’s enough to startle her back to consciousness, enough to flick the logic switch in her brain back on.  All her doubts and memories come rushing back: their long period of separation; the dangerous task of bringing down Proactive Citizenry; everything that’s already going on around them; Cam, still asleep in the bedroom; Grace . . . out in the hall?

She pulls back from Connor, her hands falling away from him to land at her sides.  There are a few inches of space between them now, but he keeps his hands at her back, holding her to him, and she finds that, for whatever reason, she’s more grateful than annoyed.

She turns to face the other girl in the hallway, whose face is – inexplicably – filled with terror.  “Grace – what are you – ?” is all Risa can get out.

And then there are two simultaneous crashes; Grace barrels into them, knocking them into the boys’ bedroom; and all hell breaks loose.


End file.
